


Oregon

by cleo4u2, xantissa



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Board Games, Boys In Love, Engagement, Fluff, M/M, domestic stucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 08:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11755845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleo4u2/pseuds/cleo4u2, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xantissa/pseuds/xantissa
Summary: This was written for the Not Without You, Kickstarterbackers rewards:Steve and Bucky take a well deserved vacation to Oregon





	Oregon

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the one and only Glow Cloud, [NurseDarry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NurseDarry/profile). ALL HAIL.

Steve’s always been a city boy through and through, yet even he has to admit their cabin in the woods is wonderful. When he does, Bucky just smirks because talking his best guy into taking a vacation had been like pulling teeth. Yet, here they are. Bucky had confiscated Steve’s cell phone before they left so it’s just them. For an entire month. After everything that’s happened, they need it. Not just the time to be together again, but a break from being who the world expects them to be. They need time to just…be Steve and Bucky.

The driveway is steep when they at last find it, and Bucky thinks that it’s weird that the ground is the same deep red as the cabin itself, but maybe that’s normal in Oregon. He’s not sure he’s ever been here before. The cabin is perfect, though. Small, but they’ve lived in smaller. It’s got no close neighbors and was quite a drive from any airport, but it was worth listening to Steve sing along with the radio to get here. 

When they’ve gathered up their duffle bags, figured out which key fits in which lock, they push the door open and Steve inhales sharply. Bucky is stunned. They could hear the rushing water, but he hadn’t thought it would be so close. Yet the huge, nearly floor-to-ceiling windows overlook a deck that seems to have its beams jut right into the river itself. Bucky doubts that’s the case, building safety and all, but that’s how it looks. He hardly notices the garish mismatch of furniture in its clashing shades of tan, burgundy, brown and seafoam green, because the view. It’s absolutely stunning, mountains rising over the river, green like Bucky’s never seen and, Christ, but Bucky is in awe.

Eyes wide like he’s a kid again, Steve whirls about, taking in the entirety of the cabin. They’re standing in the living room as there’s no entryway to speak of. Beside them are two stairs leading into the the kitchen. It’s painted a soft cream like the living room, white tiled, with cherry-red, floor-to-ceiling cabinets. Bucky thinks it’ll be a squeeze to fit them both in at once, but Steve does most of the cooking. The island separating the living room and kitchen will be a safe place to stay out of Steve’s way. Well, until he realizes the steps up to the kitchen make the island top come up to his chest. 

That’s when he notices the table, snug behind sea foam green armchair and burgundy couch. It’s wood, probably not comfortable, and so easy to overlook with the view as spectacular as it is. Not that Bucky thinks it’ll matter much. Steve’s jaw has fallen open and Bucky knows they’ll spend their meals on the deck. He doesn’t care, either. Not when Steve’s like a kid at Christmas. Bucky can clearly remember the last time he saw that look on his fella’s face; when he came out of cryo and got his mind back. This? This is gonna be a much better memory.

Steve’s broad shoulder bumps purposefully against his and his guy closes his trap long enough to wiggle his eyebrows and ask, “Wanna check out the bedroom?”

Laughing, Bucky chases Steve into the tiny room and tackles him onto the bed. Their duffle bags go flying, thumping on the soft cream carpet. Steve, the tactical genius that he is, has clearly expected Bucky’s assault because he twists as they connect, keeps twisting as they fall, and lands on his back, hands already lifting to Bucky’s hair. They kiss as their legs hang off the edge of the bed, tangled together, Bucky’s heart lighter than it’s been in…ever.

\----

Their second morning there, Bucky wakes up and all he can smell is coffee. The bed’s a bit cold, but if Steve’s got up to make him coffee, he’s not going to complain. He’s not even gonna groan as he rolls out of bed and pads barefoot to find Steve sitting at the huge windows that overlook the river and the mountain across from it. There’s fog wisps rolling over the mountaintop and it’s so damn green. Bucky’s not sure he’s ever seen anything like it.

Quiet, not wanting to disturb the stillness of the morning, Bucky fetches his own cup of coffee and moves to stand behind Steve. His best guy doesn’t look away from the view, just leans back against him, warm and solid and here with Bucky. It’s the greatest gift Bucky’s ever been given, and if every morning is like this? Bucky’s not sure they’ll ever leave.

\----

In the afternoon, Bucky goes fishing. He tries to teach Steve, but Steve’s about as interested in learning to fish as he is seduction techniques from Natalia, so Bucky lets him beg off. It’s peaceful anyway, and Steve doesn’t go far. Hell, he doesn’t go inside, or out of view of Bucky as he fishes, thigh deep in the swift water, not catching much, but that’s not important. It’s not the point. 

After an hour - or maybe two, Bucky isn’t keeping track - he catches a large trout, hauling it in and thinking he can probably fry it up for dinner. When he looks around to tell Steve, though, he realizes he’s lost sight of him. He’s not quite sure when it happened, but his heart skips until he finally spies a flash of red, high up, over the water, because Steve is not as sane as everyone thinks, and he’s chosen to climb up into the branches of one of the trees overhanging the river. From the looks of it, he also decided it was a great place for a nap because his eyes are closed, lips parted, leg dangling, looking for all the world like a big cat asleep on a branch.

Bucky looks from Steve, to the water below, to Steve again and, well, no one can really blame him for what happens next, can they?

Using all his considerable stealth training, Bucky gets the fish on the deck and climbs up after Steve. The tree is surprisingly perfect for it, leaning out over the river at an angle that isn’t too steep, and with plenty of branches to prevent slipping hands and feet. Soon he’s next to Steve, reaching over him, lifting himself on the branch above so he can get his feet on Steve’s side and shove.

With a yelp and a cry, Steve splashes into the river below. A moment later, he surfaces and screams, “Bucky!”

“Yes, darling?” Bucky asks, smiling sweetly, getting his feet on Steve’s branch so he can lean down to look at his soaked lover.

Steve just sputters, looking at him with mouth agape, and then looks as determined as if he was about to storm a German bunker.

“Oh, it’s like that, huh? Okay. It’s on, Buck.”

The next thing Bucky knows, Steve is swimming for the tree, cutting off Bucky’s escape and he realizes he might have made a mistake.

When he’s fishing himself out of the river, he decides it was worth it anyway.

\----

The fish turns out fantastic, but no thanks to Bucky. He kind of wonders where Steve learned to gut, clean, and cook fresh fish, but he isn’t sure how to ask. Sometimes it’s better not to. The things that they’ve been through, that they’ve done, the most innocent questions can spark some terrible memories, and Bucky wants none of those on this trip. He’ll ask when they get home.

“Thanks for this,” Steve murmurs. “For making me do this. It’s…”

“Yeah,” Bucky says when Steve just trails off. Steve doesn’t need to finish, Bucky understands. “Truth is, I’m selfish. You work too much, Stevie, and then you go into this cycle of stress and work and stress and work, and you stop wanting to have sex and you say some pretty stupid things.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve asks, but he’s laughing, so Bucky doesn’t think he’s said anything wrong.

“Yeah.” Bucky grins at Steve, kicking his bare feet up so they land in his fella’s lap beneath the table. “Stark told me about that whole ‘language’ thing; shit like that. You hound people for the slightest infraction, and you just need a breath, doll. Everyone needs one now and then, but you -”

“Hold myself to impossibly high standards that no one would be able to reach,” Steve recites, rolling his eyes, but he wraps his hands around Bucky’s foot and starts working his thumbs into the sole, so he’s still not mad. Bucky kind of falls a little in love with him again, and it’s not just because he has magic hands.

“Exactly,” Bucky nods, “but, uh, I like it here, too.”

“Yeah.” Steve smiles. “It’s nice.”

Bucky stretches out his leg and nudges Steve in the side with it.

“You want to move up a little?” he coaxes, trying to get Steve to give him a full massage. There are some perks to having a super soldier boyfriend after all.

“You are shameless,” Steve accuses gently, but his large hand is moving up Bucky’s leg, fingers digging into the muscles.

“But you love me anyway?” Bucky asks, giving Steve the best puppy eyes he can manage.

“Yeah I do,” Steve agrees stilling his hands on Bucky’s shins. Bucky grins, so wide his cheeks hurt with it. “So you going to give me one of those famous, Rogers-patented massages?”

Steve’s eyes are dark and promising as he nods and admits, “I like how you get all pliant and soft afterwards.” 

“And you like me all agreeable to everything you want to do to me?” Bucky teases, getting up from the table and stretching until his spine cracks. Steve’s eyes never leave him as he gets up as well.

“Yeah, I do.”

Bucky snickers, but he hurries to the bedroom.

\----

They find boardgames tucked into the closet of the bedroom. The morning is spent laughing and shouting, shoving and generally acting like kids again. Then they break the ‘Sorry’ dice bobble and tuck everything away again.

“This,” Steve says, “is why we can’t have nice things.”

“No,” Bucky says pointedly because Steve broke the thing, “this is why Stark soldier-proofs everything you own.”

\----

Bucky’s favorite time, on vacation or not, is when he gets to crack open a new book and Steve sits with him, sometimes pressed closed, sometimes with just their feet touching, and draws. The scratch of Steve’s pencil over his sketchbook had long ago become one of the sounds that could relax Bucky after only a few moments. Like Bruce said classical music could, or Natasha in a rainstorm, it was just soothing. 

There’s a kind of ambience to Steve’s drawing, not just the sound, but the smell of paper and the wood of the pencils. He could get a new art pad and draw electronically, but for Steve the drawing is as much a sensual thing as it was about creating. 

Sometimes, if Bucky’s having a good day, he can fool himself into thinking that they’re back on the roof of their old building, that the war hadn’t happened, that he’d never been unmade, or hurt people. It’s a nice fantasy, not one that he’d admit to, but nice anyway. Though, the river running by makes it a little hard to picture, though; they’d never lived that close to Hudson.

Having Steve sit still for over an hour is also a nice change, seeing as Bucky doesn’t have to worry about him until they get up again. Bucky also loves the way Steve looks at him when they’re like this, and how all of Steve’s attention is on him. Outwardly it’s on the picture he’s creating, but in reality it’s all for Bucky, and they both know it. At each shift in Bucky’s position, Steve adjusts his own to keep the same angle for the drawing. In turn, it makes Bucky wish to stay as still and perfect for Steve as is humanly possible. To give Steve whatever he wants, even if it’s holding in place for an hour or so. 

A strange popping sound interrupts them after only forty-five minutes. They both look up, then at each other. As one they realize the sound of running water is not just in front of them, but behind them, inside the house. Scrambling to their feet, they dart back into the house. The moment they pass the threshold they can see the water trickling towards the stairs that rise into the kitchen, then pouring down them. 

“Fuck!” Bucky curses, rushing into kitchen to find where to turn off the water. Behind him, he can hear Steve rushing into the bathroom and then the cupboards slamming open, fetching towels to stem the flow of the water so it doesn’t ruin the carpet. Steve nearly tramples him as he rushes to lay down the towels as he finds the valve under the sink and shuts off the water flow. The problem is obvious even before he gets it down; the P-trap is broken, burst where it’s joined at the top, the pieces separated jaggedly. 

“How bad is it?” Steve asks, the wet squishiness of the towels being adjusted and Steve splashing around in the inch-high water pooled on the tile loud now that the valve is closed. “Do we need to call the landlord? Are we going to lose our deposit?”

“Nah,” Bucky says, poking his head back out from the counter. He’s soaked through, but he’s confident he can fix this, “so long as the carpets not too bad?”

“I’ve seen worse,” Steve says. 

“There was that general store in town,” Bucky says, standing up and yanking off his shirt. He passes it to Steve because it’s no good to him right now and it’ll help damn the water a little. “I’ll head out, see if they have what I need, or if they know of a hardware store. You take care of our lake problem?”

“I’ll give it a shot,” Steve says, which means he’s already thinking about it and considering all the ways to clean up the water with what they have on hand. Besides his lips, Bucky loves that it’s Steve’s mind that has stayed the same even after the serum.

Passing Steve on the way to the bedroom to get a new shirt, Bucky plants a kiss on his best guy’s cheek. Oddly enough, he’s excited about this, about solving this problem with his own hands, not just calling the landlord and fobbing it off on someone else. They both know they could afford to lose their deposit, even though this isn’t really their fault, and with how the pipe burst it’s not even a very difficult job. He supposes it’s not exactly a vacation activity, but if he enjoys it, who’s to complain?

\----

It takes Steve two days to realize Bucky is playing Pokemon on their walks. He supposes he gets why Steve gets so mad, it’s supposed to be time they spend together, but they’re hiking for miles and Bucky’s buddy is getting loads of candy - and evolving a magikarp is a pain in the ass, not to mention embarrassing as hell to be seen with this thing flapping gamely beside him - so he doesn’t see what the harm in it is, really. Especially since he’s also hatched all his eggs that have just been languishing in the backpack. 

It’s not like he can do much with it when they work, his focus always on something else more important, like watching Steve’s back. Here? Okay, it sucks that there are no Pokestops, or Pokemon in general, but he can at least hatch the eggs and maybe evolve the magikarp. But of course Steve catches on and then gives him the puppy eyes of doom. 

Well, they’re not so much puppy eyes, as kicked kitten eyes, and Bucky hates it when Steve’s feelings are hurt. He hates it more than getting his hair cut, or sparring with Natalia, or letting Stark poke at his arm, so he purposely turns off his phone and Steve smiles at him, all sunshine and daisies, and makes Bucky’s stomach swoop like they’re doing a dive on the quinjet. 

“The things I do for love,” Bucky says loftily, because feelings this deep still makes him uncomfortable.

Steve takes his hand, laces their fingers together, and squeezes.

“I love you, too, Buck.”

\---

It’s surprising how quickly they run out of things to do at a cabin in the middle of nowhere. They try crosswords, but it ended with Steve getting huffy at Bucky who kept ‘cheating’ and Googling the answers. Sudoku hadn’t been a better choice. Steve’s really good at it, but Bucky can’t find the patience. It just isn’t fun for him, solving math problems. He had to do way too much of that at work, calculating the angles and trajectory and the rotation of the Earth when using his rifle. In the end, Bucky had started singing Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall obnoxiously loudly, and Steve had to take him to bed to shut him up. 

They’ve got a few days left of their vacation, and they’ve both pulled out the laptops. Steve is surfing Pinterest, Bucky is on Facebook. He likes how easy it is to keep up with what people are doing in their lives, though sometimes he thinks it means people actually talk to each other less, since they can just post it and assume everyone they know saw.

“Hey, Katie down in accounting is getting married,” Bucky calls to Steve across the living room. He’s in the seafoam chair while Steve is sprawled across the burgundy couch.   
“That’s nice,” Steve says, gaze flicking to Bucky which means he is at least listening.

“She’s real excited,” he goes on, “wants me to help with planning it. You think I could do that?”

“Of course,” Steve answers. “Might be a lot of fun.”

Grinning, Bucky sends Kattie a message that he’d be happy to help out, and then frowns at the response he gets.

“She’s wondering when we’re gonna get married.”

Steve snorts. Bucky looks up at him, but he’s not even looking at Bucky. Maybe he isn’t listening this time. When he’s found something particularly interesting, Steve sometimes forgets to pay attention to the world around him.

“You hear me?” Bucky asks, frowning and not quite sure why.

“Yeah, I heard you, Buck,” Steve says, still without looking up.

Bucky stares at Steve, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Finally he asks, “Do you not want to get married?”

For some reason, Steve finds this question funny, too, as he chuckles.

“I figured out a long time ago you’re not that kind of guy, Buck. Don’t worry about it so much. I got over it.”

Frowning harder, Bucky looks down at the winking chat icon that is an excited Katie talking about color schemes. He wants to dive into it, immerse himself in something that’s a celebration of life and love, but he just sits there, staring, with Steve’s words running through his head. To be honest, he’s not sure if they had ever talked about it before, because he still doesn’t know where all the holes are in his memory. Part of him thinks they haven’t, though, that this is one of those things Steve’s made up his mind about without talking to him because Steve does that sometimes. 

To be honest, Bucky’s never thought about marrying Steve. They’ll be together until the end of the line, forever and then some, and that’s a longer commitment than any made before God. Not that the Catholic church would marry them anyway, but he’s not sure he cares about that anymore. Yet Steve’s comment, that he ‘got over it’, means it had meant something to Steve at some point. Briefly, Bucky wonders if Steve doesn’t want to be tied down, but dismisses it quickly. They’ve been ‘it’ for each other since they were teenagers; they’ve never not been tied down. 

These thoughts haunt Bucky all night. It feels like he’s failed somehow. Like he’s disappointed Steve and he didn’t even know it. His fella sleeps like the dead, so Bucky knows it’s not bothering him any, but that just serves to bother Bucky more. Were there sleepless nights for Steve some time ago? Had he lain awake and wondered why Bucky didn’t want him as a husband? Was it that damn Supreme Court verdict that had sparked it? Steve had been so excited, wanted to march in as many parades as possible, but Bucky hadn’t really cared; Steve was his and no paper, or lack thereof, could tell him otherwise. 

At three in the morning, Bucky can’t stand it any more. He slips out of the house and takes the car into town. Nothing is open, of course. Not the general store, or the hardware store, or the tiny gift shop that make up the town proper. So he keeps driving, back the way they came, until he finds a place big enough to have a twenty-four hour Walmart. It’s a ways, and the ring is plain, but Steve’s never been one to be impressed by extravagance.

When he makes it back, it’s nearly seven, and Bucky’s stomach twists because Steve is sitting on a stump by the back of the house, staring at the driveway. He stands up as Bucky pulls in and Bucky knows he’s been waiting since he woke up, because he’s just in shorts, no shirt or shoes. It’s summer, so he won’t be freezing, but Bucky can’t imagine he was comfortable either.

“Bucky!” Steve calls to him the moment he opens the door. “Where did you go?”

“Into town,” Bucky says uncomfortably, fetching the bag from the passenger seat.

“You’ve been gone for _hours_ ,” Steve snaps, and Bucky winces because Steve has been worrying and that wasn’t the point of this trip.

“Steve,” Bucky said seriously, taking a deep breath, “we need to talk.”

Steve’s mouth opens and closes, but then he nods sharply and turns on his heel. Clutching the bag in his right hand, Bucky follows Steve into the house, then through the living room onto the deck. Then Steve whirls on him, crosses his arms, and fuck, Bucky’s looking at Captain America and not Steve Rogers.

“So talk,” Steve says sharply.

Taking another deep breath, Bucky fishes the little grey box out of the Walmart bag and sinks to one knee.

“Steve,” Bucky has to swallow down the lump in his throat, “will you marry me?”

Steve’s blue eyes get so wide Bucky wonders if they’ll swallow his whole head, and then he falls to his knees, wrapping his hand around Bucky’s. 

“Is this about yesterday? Bucky, you don’t gotta -” 

“I know I don’t _gotta_ ,” Bucky interrupts angrily. “I want to! I love you! Is it really so hard to believe I want to marry you? What did I do?” he demands as Steve’s mouth just opens and shuts. “What did I do to convince you I would never want you like that? Was I such an asshole?”

“Y-you told me,” Steve stammers, “back before the War, that you’d never wanna get married, and then when it was legal you didn’t care at all.”

Bucky wants to hit his head on something hard.

“Steve! I meant a girl. I didn’t want to get married to a _girl_! Not you!”

Mouth opening and closing again, Steve then looks down at their hands and grabs the box. Wordlessly, he yanks the ring out and shoves it on his left hand. Bucky’s lips twitch at how determined he looks in that moment. 

“Is that a yes?” Bucky asks, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Of course it is, you jerk,” Steve huffs, pulling him in and kissing him hard. “Of course. _Always_."

Smiling, Bucky lets Steve kiss him, folding against his chest. They’re never going to have a better vacation ever. Bucky doesn’t mind in the slightest.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> [Follow Cleo on Tumblr ](http://cleo4u2.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> [Follow Xantissa on Tumblr ](http://xantissa.tumblr.com/)


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